


Tinted

by aftersoon (notboldly)



Category: The Avengers (2012)
Genre: Angst, Coulson is alive because I want him to be, Dubious Consent (at points), First Time, M/M, Mildly Horrifying, Possession, Romance, Science and Magic, Slash
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-07-25
Updated: 2012-07-25
Packaged: 2017-11-23 16:22:13
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,584
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/624161
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/notboldly/pseuds/aftersoon
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Tony meddles in things he shouldn't. There are consequences.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Tinted

Tinted

********

Bruce had it on good authority that, despite his large green problem, he was considered one of the more reliable members of the Avengers team. In terms of rational, functional, adult responsibility, he and Natasha were balanced neatly on the top, with Steve and Thor a little behind and Tony and Clint somewhere near the bottom, or at least that's what he'd heard. So it didn't surprise him that, when the time for drinking came around, everyone expected Bruce to stay sober out of preference rather than necessity, or at least that he would cut himself off after a few drinks and stay well-behaved overall. Sadly, this was not the case; Bruce was in fact perfectly prone to making bad decisions after a couple of drinks, a fact that was supported clearly when one looked at all the evidence.

Namely, when Tony asked if Bruce wanted to have sex, Bruce had said _yes_.

The offer wasn't complicated, and there was certainly no nuance to speak of, no innuendo to interpret or code to break, just that one statement—"Banner, wanna fuck?" And while the offer itself might have surprised him, the delivery certainly didn't; Tony could normally be as subtle as he wanted, but after a few dozen fingers of scotch, he was about as subtle as the Hulk on a bad day. It would have been amusing if Bruce had been watching from the sidelines, but he wasn't given that option. For some reason, he took the frank offer and warm, happy buzz of tequila in his belly as permission to make terrible choices. Well, worse choices than drinking tequila, following Tony to his room, and leaning into the hand resting on his chest.

Tony didn't taste like a bad choice, but then, Bruce had known his share of things that went down easy and came up rough. He _did_ taste like lingering traces of scotch, smooth and fine and probably worth a fortune, and it was such an accurate description of Tony all around that Bruce couldn't help but smile even while Tony tried his best to make him forget his own name. It wasn't a hopeless effort; Tony kissed like he did everything, with a smugness exactly proportionate to his skill, both of these things clearly labeling him an expert. Bruce kissed back and felt lost, inexperienced, out of practice, uncertain. Tony steamrollered over whatever hesitation he might have shown, coaxing with teeth and tongue until Bruce could add "dizzy" to the list of feelings swirling in his chest. When Tony pulled back, it was with a sound both wet and satisfied.

"Wow, okay Banner. Natural talent or good teacher?" Tony licked his lips in an exaggerated fashion and Bruce laughed, then propped himself up on one elbow and watched Tony watch him.

"I'm not sure." He'd never thought about it, and he hadn't made out on a bed with anyone in ages. "You?"

"Practice. Lots and lots of practice." Bruce shook his head but didn't lose his smile, because this was Tony and Bruce knew exactly what he was getting himself into. Sure enough, Tony didn't wait long before he licked his lips again, more slowly this time, as if savoring the taste. His eyes tracked from the glint of Bruce's glasses to the buttons on his shirt, and lingered where the cloth bunched at his waist and lower. Bruce swallowed suddenly, very loud. Incriminating. "You don't do this often, do you?"

"No." Never, a small voice whispered. "Too risky. For…well, everyone."

Tony laughed. "Well, since you're being such a daredevil, I'd hate to disappoint." A hand came to rest on Bruce's side, the touch almost innocent. "Besides, you really need to broaden your horizons, so to speak. Tequila shots, really?" Tony was already leaning forward, already sealing their lips together almost casually before Bruce even considered responding, and the second kiss was no less distracting than the first. A bit rougher, a bit more teeth, a little more noise, but Bruce liked that, and when he bit Tony's bottom lip _hard_ , the groan Tony choked off said that he liked it too. A hand fumbled at his belt, and to Bruce, that was the first sign that something was wrong: a fumbling Tony.

Bruce pulled back to see Tony smiling with blood on his teeth and eyes that burned a bright crystalline blue, brighter than almost anything Bruce had ever seen. Almost.

"Second thoughts, Banner?" He looked close to laughing, and his grin was not Tony, his eyes were not Tony, his _actions_ were not Tony. And Bruce had read the report, once. Tony had shared it with him, pirated files that he thought would help Bruce understand he was a hero. Bruce had appreciated it then, and he appreciated it now.

Bruce punched him hard across the jaw before he had time to think about it, but he knew in the back of his mind--the darker, selfish part--that he would probably always regret it.

*********

Tony came to in the specialized SHIELD containment unit, slowly and groggily and with eyes still burning blue. Bruce felt almost relieved as he stood there watching him through the security camera, surrounded by agents and Avengers; for a few hours there, he thought he'd hit him too hard, that he'd somehow killed him. Not even the record of a recorded pulse could comfort him in that respect, but now, seeing a Tony that was not Tony, he almost wondered if that wouldn't have been a mercy. He had read the report, after all, and the blow to the head hadn't worked; whatever this was, it wasn't the same. And it wouldn't be easy to fix.

All eyes in the room turned to Thor and Clint, as expert and former victim respectively. They were little help.

"It is not Loki," Thor asserted, and when Thor was that certain of something, the words were as true as any scientific study. "He is currently bound in Asgard by the best of warlocks' craft; he and his magic cannot reach here."

That was a comfort to a select few, no doubt, but it didn't solve their problem.

"It _is_ definitely the Tesseract, though. I'd recognize that look anywhere," Clint admitted, almost reluctantly. "Do we know where Selvig is? Because if it's some sort of latent reaction, we should probably all be under surveillance."

"Selvig is fine and already being closely observed. That's not the problem." Coulson tapped a file on the table next to him, its contents no doubt classified and also no doubt known by Tony and those whom he had bothered to share with. "The problem is that Stark was never affected in the first place. Attempts were made, but they were unsuccessful. We believed he was immune." There was regret in his voice that threatened to linger in the air, but Natasha, always a decision maker, continued the discussion without pause.

"Then it must be something else," Natasha pointed out reasonably as she sat down at the table, and Clint nodded, wincing as he copied her move. Bruce sympathized with the response to old demons, even as his heart pounded and his stomach twisted, churning alcohol. And to think that just a few hours ago he'd been laughing and drinking with…not-Tony. "It might still be the Tesseract, though I don't know how that's possible."

"None of us do, but we're going to find out." Fury's voice was calm, harsh, and just this side of angry, as per usual. Whereas Coulson still moved gingerly with his materials, Fury didn't hesitate to slap a manila folder in front of each of them, each one containing numbers and notes in Selvig's handwriting. Bruce skimmed them; much of it was over his head. "But first things first, what was Tony doing when he went blue? Did anyone notice anything strange?"

Bruce took a deep breath.

"We had been drinking, all of us. Tony…wanted to show me something in his room." _Tony wanted to have sex, when he'd never seemed even the slightest bit interested_ was the truth, and truthfully where Bruce should have realized something was wrong. He intercepted a look from Natasha at his response, and a curious one from Steve of all people; they knew what he was leaving out. "I didn't think anything was wrong, except he bit himself hard enough to draw blood and he was smiling, and then his eyes were blue." Bruce shrugged, forced lightness. "I reacted."

Fury nodded slowly, fingers tapping a staccato on the glass table. "Anything else?"

"He wasn't acting like himself, but I didn't think it was dangerous. I just thought it was the result of scotch and Tony."

"Fair enough." Fury's gaze slid across the table as the others looked at their own folders. "Anyone else see anything?"

Steve raised his hand, his serious expression belaying the almost grade school gesture.

"He seemed unusually focused on Dr. Banner for the entire evening. I know they're close, but Tony was watching his every move last night. So whatever it was, it at least started before last night."

"Before last morning." They all looked at Clint, who shrugged. "You said he was focused on the Doc, and I agree. But he was like that when he got up. I thought—well, I assumed they were just banging or something."

Bruce felt his lips twitch, but he refused to let even the slightest reaction show through, one way or another. They had other things to worry about.

"No, definitely not. But he was working on something in his lab last night—I'm sure JARVIS has records of it. I'm not sure how much help they'll be, considering it's Tony, but it's a start." The statement sent a wave of relief through their group, and he understood; the Avengers and even SHIELD wanted Tony back, in all his painfully irritating glory. He was a good resource. A great teammate. They all felt the lack of him, chiming in with unusual brilliance and insight far beyond them; he was irreplaceable.

"Dr. Banner, see if you can figure out what he was working on. Natasha, go talk to Stark—see if he's in his right mind at all. The rest of you?" Fury sighed, and rubbed at the bridge of his nose like a headache was coming on. "Better prepare for another invasion, if this is anything like the last time."

They all nodded, and the air of the room was somber as they each went to their tasks. Invasion, Fury said, and the possibility was a real one. It was not Bruce's primary concern, however.

Bruce just wanted his friend back.

********

JARVIS had indeed recorded Tony's experiment of two nights ago, as per standard procedure in Stark Laboratories. Unlike the usual procedure, however, the information was locked; it was surprising to Bruce, because after nearly eight months of living at the Tower, Bruce had never encountered anything above his clearance. Share and share alike seemed to be Tony's motto on knowledge, although Bruce would admit that the thought didn't really extend to anyone except him. It made him feel warm, mostly, although now it was an inconvenience: the data was there, the recorded lab sessions, and no one could see it except Tony. It was locked, and not even JARVIS would break that, because at his core, he was still Tony’s creation.

Fortunately for Bruce, he knew Tony. And he knew that Tony never kept just one record of anything, and that hard copies were much harder to hack. Naturally, there was a file cabinet ten floors down, in a room mostly used for storage and inconspicuous despite the knowledge it contained. Tony backed it up every morning, an automatic print and file system neatly in place for occasions when JARVIS was "misbehaving," as he'd put it. While it might have lacked real life recordings and other media, it did have paper notes, and Bruce suspected that was the best start he was going to get.

Because the files were organized, he found what he was looking for immediately. And because he was a rational, calm human being, he didn't immediately panic. Not immediately.

The file in question was thick, too thick for one night. There was an index, and it showed a scattering of dates going back for five months, all on nights or mornings where Tony had unceremoniously kicked Bruce out or had otherwise barricaded himself alone in his lab. Bruce hadn't thought anything of it, but now, he wondered if he shouldn't have been more concerned. The numbers were familiar enough, the comments moreso; they bore a striking resemblance to Selvig's notes.

Tony, for whatever reason, had been working on another portal.

********

Bruce spent a little over four hours pouring over the notes found in Tony's storage room, the result being that when he finally emerged to reconvene with the rest of the Avengers, he was confused, frustrated, and impressed in equal parts. The design for the portal was, of course, both brilliant and impossible; the Tesseract was no longer on Earth, and the power required to otherwise operate an opening between worlds would have been the equivalent of twenty thousand arc reactors with each approximately the size of Manhattan. The limitation hadn't stopped Tony from trying, though, from finalizing the design down to minute details, and although he had never so much as constructed a model, Bruce could see how this research and these plans had shown up in his other works. Bruce was flabbergasted, and a little hurt; why had Tony never mentioned this to him? Why keep it a secret?

The others were just as confused initially, even Fury. The reaction seemed genuine enough, so it clearly wasn't a secret SHIELD project. And once Thor arrived, having just paid a visit to Selvig in New Mexico, they got their answer.

"I believe friend Tony was constructing this for me." The motive didn't seem entirely odd once it had been said, but Thor looked guilty enough that Bruce didn't comment. "Many months ago, I expressed displeasure at having to leave sweet Jane; mortals cannot reach Asgard, not without the rainbow bridge. It is difficult for Asgardians to do so, even, and so must be planned well in advance so that the power is available." Thor shook his head, and looked at the plans Bruce had found. He couldn't have understood them from a physicist's point of view, but Bruce saw comprehension regardless; Thor was always smarter than he appeared. "I did not think my comment would spawn such things."

"Yes, well. Stark has always been something of a romantic, and elaborate gifts are exactly his style. He gave Steve a park for his birthday, remember?" Natasha said, and Steve flushed. Bruce personally thought it was Tony's way of wringing interesting reactions from people (Bruce, after all, had gotten a welcome-home-laboratory), but a romantic…he could see it. Barely, but he could.

Thor only looked sadder.

"He should not have done so. Had he come to me, I would have told him that this was impossible." The others looked at him, and Thor pushed the plans away lightly. "The Tesseract is the only one capable of jumping worlds. She does not like it when people meddle." It wasn't the first time someone had referred to the Tesseract as a 'she,' but by the reactions at the table, it was clear no one had actually thought that through.

"Is the Tesseract…sentient?" Steve was the brave soul who asked that question, and Thor looked confused. "Alive," Steve clarified.

"Yes. She is truth and beauty and dangerous power. My father constructed her, but she was never as she appeared." He looked at the monitor behind him, the one still trained on Tony's cell. "I should have known. Humans are endlessly curious."

Bruce swallowed, and he clasped his hands together tightly. They were shaking.

"What does the Tesseract _do_ when people meddle?" The question was soft, but Bruce was nonetheless heard in the silence.

"I am uncertain. The results have never before been seen on Asgard or any realm we frequent."

"Lucky us." Clint's sarcasm didn't carry the same cheerfulness it usually did, not that anyone blamed him. Tony still paced, locked in a cage. He shouldn't have been there, but no one could release him. Not yet. Not after seeing what the aftereffects of just two possessed men, neither of them with Tony’s influence.

"Natasha, how did Tony react when you spoke to him?" Fury's voice was almost gentle, and that scared Bruce more than anything.

"Barely. He stared, mostly, as if he didn't see me." She glanced at Bruce, a quick flit of nervous eyes. "He did ask about Dr. Banner, though—said some unsavory things. I think Tony might have tried to kill him if he'd had the chance."

Bruce swallowed again, fighting nausea. Not for the reasons anyone thought, but he remembered what the Tesseract did in general, or had done when powered by Loki. Soldiers became better soldiers. Scientists became seekers of knowledge, and ignored pesky things like lives that got in the way.

And Tony was a scientist, in his heart.

"To get to the Hulk?"

Natasha stared at him.

"He never mentioned the Hulk. Not even once."

********

According to a Clint who was very reluctant to talk about it, the Tesseract caused obsessive behavior more than anything, often to the eclipse of all else. Bruce's guess hadn't been entirely wrong, but it had been on a lesser scale; Selvig had wanted knowledge and truth, but Clint's experience had been much different. Clint might have become a better soldier, but that hadn't been his goal: his goal had been Loki's approval, his affection. Of _course_ it was difficult to talk about it, and Bruce knew that if Tony's life hadn't been on the line, Clint probably never would have. Bruce thanked him profusely, and Clint said he was dealing with it as well as could be expected, but that wasn't important. What was important was that the Tesseract, or her second-hand touch, had made Tony obsessed with _Bruce_ , and her hold was much stronger than the power of Loki's staff. The source, as it were.

But even knowing that, nothing they did seemed to help, and time was running out.

Bruce worked nonstop, joined by a veritable fleet of scientists from around the globe, some he knew and some he didn't, Selvig among them. Thor returned to Asgard to question his father. Natasha and Clint left to parts unknown to continue Avengers work at the behest of Coulson, because wars didn't stop for any one fallen soldier. Steve…Steve tried his best to keep their spirits up, and it helped that he truly believed in them. In all of them.

Tony faded with each passing day. The Tesseract didn't let him sleep or eat or give into drugs, keeping him awake and aware even when the human body should have caved. The rings under his eyes were black like coal, stretched far down his face like bruises from swollen eyes, and the skin around his mouth was always tight. He paced constantly; around the third day, his knees gave out, and he crawled, always moving. Bruce couldn't watch and didn't need to; there were others to watch Tony slowly dying while they failed. And failed.

After four and a half days, Tony stopped moving, and Bruce couldn't avoid it any longer. Tony was obsessed with him; well, Tony could have him, as much good as it would do.

Without any explanation or warning, Bruce went down to the containment unit, staring through the strongest glass ever made at the still form of someone who should not have been there for minutes before he stepped inside. He heard the alarms go off, warnings of containment being breeched as the door closed behind him. He ignored them.

At first, he thought he was too late. There were unpleasant smells of an imprisoned man, vomit and filth and sweat, and the smell of death could have been masked. Tony was so still…but he breathed, uneven wheezing that moved and rattled his chest. Not illness; exhaustion. Weakness.

Bruce crouched next to him, stethoscope ear pieces firmly lodged as he pressed the chest piece to warm skin, and he listened to the churn of Tony’s empty stomach, the absence of heartbeat. Tony looked at him with blue eyes.

"So, I finally get a visit from the doctor. Am I cured?" Tony spoke through chapped lips, and his voice rasped. Still cheerful.

Bruce swallowed, but he kept his voice calm. "We thought you might be dangerous, Tony. You're…not yourself."

"That is true, isn't it?" Tony looked away while Bruce felt his pulse. It was slow, sluggish, but Tony's heart didn't beat; Bruce didn't know what a slow pulse meant for him. "I'm kind of bits and pieces of a lot of things. Machine. Man. You'd think a magical glowing cube would be a welcome addition."

It almost sounded like Tony, the _real_ Tony. Bruce looked away.

"Not this time." He looked back, and the expression Tony wore was of lust. Blood lust. "You can't sleep. Or eat—we've given you food. Water." Tony watched the way his throat moved, eyes fixed on the beat of his carotid artery. "You'll die if you stay like this."

"Not if you stay with me." The words should have sounded comforting. They didn't; underneath the sweet tone was a fixed gaze with mocking, mocking eyes. "I've missed you, Bruce. Wish we hadn't been interrupted."

"I wish we'd been interrupted sooner."

"No, you don't. You're easy, Banner—you were shaking with it." The words were teasing, but the tone was mean, deliberate and punishing. It wasn't Tony. Not even on his worst days.

And Bruce, contrary to the ache in his heart, was able to smile. It surprised Tony, that much was clear.

"Maybe that's true." Bruce patted his shoulder, and his touch lingered. The shirt was stiff with sweat, feverishly warm. "I just want you back. Whatever that means."

"Yeah, yeah." Tony rolled his eyes, and Bruce worried at the sight of no white, only red. Just as he worried about the strained muscles and dehydration, and Tony's soul. "You're such a spoilsport."

Tony fainted while alarms still blared in the background, and Bruce didn't waste any time contacting SHIELD medical. He waited patiently, not moving except for the occasional shiver, and when the men and women in white arrived to carry Tony away, Bruce followed them.

Possession or no, Tony was getting an IV this time.

********

Tony was out for approximately fourteen hours after reaching the SHIELD medical wing, and Bruce was there for all of them. A large part of it was concern, but at least four of those hours were spent undergoing tests of his own; he had breached the containment area, after all, and Tony had expressed a desire to murder Bruce violently on a previous occasion. Bruce didn't hold it against him, and wouldn't read the transcripts; Tony had wanted a great many things while under the influence of the Tesseract, and none of them were things he wanted while in his rational mind. Not a one.

It was hard to remember that he was supposed to forget scotch and blood, but he had to. For Tony's sake, he had to attempt it. In fact, if Tony would just wake up and be _Tony_ , Bruce promised himself and whatever gods were watching that he would never think of it again.

Then Tony woke up, groaning loud and rolling his head on too-stiff pillows, and blinking wonderful, beautiful, brown eyes.

"Bruce?" Bruce nodded, and Tony groaned again. " _Jesus_ , Bruce. Ow. Holy ow. Was I hit by a tank, or used as a Hulk hackysack or something? Cause _ow_."

Bruce's breath caught, and he was dizzy. He probably should have been eating more regular meals in the past week; that was probably the reason.

"You don't remember?"

Tony waved a hand, a weak and grasping gesture that was familiar enough to make Bruce's pulse pound.

"It's all kind of hazy. Gimme a minute." His bleary eyes caught on the dangling IV line extending from his forearm, and he was silent for a moment. "Er…yes and no? Was I in a fever dream? Any drugs involved?"

"None that we're aware of other than a little alcohol. But there was the Tesseract."

Tony blinked at him, and he must have realized his surroundings were odd, but he didn't comment.

"The Tesseract," he repeated almost thoughtfully, and then his eyes narrowed. " _The Tesseract._ Oh, son of a bitch." He was definitely wide awake now, and focused on Bruce. His eyes skimmed, looking for injuries, and that told Bruce all he needed to know about how much Tony remembered. "Are you okay, Bruce? I didn't hurt you, did I?" Bruce didn't respond immediately, because although he knew what he should say, the words were hard to force out. "Bruce?" Tony sounded shattered, wrecked, ruined, and that had never been how Bruce wanted to hear his name.

_I'm here, Tony. I'm here, and it's okay._

"No, Tony. You didn't hurt me." Although the answer was formed, Tony's eyes were slits, sharp and watching, and he clearly didn't believe it for a moment.

"You're lying. Why are you lying to me?" Tony's face was pale, and he looked almost nauseated. "Was it horrible?"

Bruce puffed out an exasperated breath. "It was just a kiss, Tony." He hadn't meant to admit it; even to his own ears, it sounded foolish. It could have been much worse.

"Question still stands." Tony continued to regard him with all the seriousness that Bruce himself felt. Bruce appreciated it, and his response came out a bit more honest than he would have liked.

"Not until the end, no." Tony looked at him with surprised _interest_ , and Bruce ran a hand through his hair. "You weren't _you_ , Tony. Let it go." He tried to laugh it off. Tried. "I wouldn't recommend trying to create any more portals, though. Apparently you're offending Asgardian technology."

Tony mumbled something at that, and Bruce extended a Styrofoam cup full of ice chips.

"Water?"

Tony shook his head, but he stayed focused on Bruce's face. Just focused.

"No. I asked if you kissed back. Did you?" He paused for a moment, an additional thought occurring. "Would you?"

To say Bruce was surprised was an understatement.

"Tony…" Bruce tried to stall, but he needn't have bothered. At the first sound of what must have sounded like gentle rejection, Tony turned away.

"Never mind. Just forget it."

"I don't think I can forget it." Tony's eyes were still red around the irises. "I did. I would." Always. Even if, in the back of his mind, he might always expect blue eyes to look back at him. He was dealing with it…but not yet. And Tony looked _hopeful_ , like Bruce's answer meant something. It was a little sudden to process, but obsession (even magical obsession) didn't come out of nowhere. "Go to sleep, Tony. Everyone's been worried about you, and I'm sure they'll be by later."

"They should have been worried about _you_ too," Tony grumbled good-naturedly, and Bruce couldn't help but agree. "Will you be here when I wake up?" His eyelids were already drooping.

"Sure, Tony. Sure." If Tony wanted him there, that's where he'd be.

Sooner or later.

********

End

**Author's Note:**

> Someone linked me to a piece of art that is relevant to although not directly related to this fic:
> 
> http://i188.photobucket.com/albums/z315/katmillia/OHGODTONY.png


End file.
